


Meet the Turtledoves!

by Shadowheartdesigns (shadowkitten)



Series: AU_gust 2020 Writing Challenge Stories [4]
Category: Princess Principal (Anime)
Genre: 1960s Music, AU-gust 2020, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/F, Girl Band, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25760782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowkitten/pseuds/Shadowheartdesigns
Summary: Ange and Charlotte meet in primary school. They develop a friendship that blossoms into more.A love of music, of performing and listening, sets them on a course that takes them to the cusp of stardomin the golden age of British Rock.part 1: Aug  7   -  Childhood Friends  -   Their first meeting  (1954)part 2: Aug 13  -  Rock Band   -   The cusp of stardom  (1965)part 3: Aug 31  -  Fusion (Childhood Friends/Rock Band)  -   Their first performances  (1962)
Relationships: Ange le Carré/Princess | Charlotte
Series: AU_gust 2020 Writing Challenge Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859071
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: AUgust 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**September, 1954**

"Good morning class."

"Good morning Mrs Crawford," they intoned dutifully.

"Now, before we begin today, we have a new student in our class. Won't you come in dear?"

A girl with short blonde hair and blue eyes entered the room, her cheeks pink. She glanced uncertainly at the students as she walked over to stand beside Mrs Crawford's desk, her hands clasped in front of her.

There were murmurs and a gasp or two in class, with several students turning in surprise to another girl who, likewise, had short blonde hair and blue eyes.

That girl blinked twice, and sat just a little lower in her seat, her cheeks reddening. Whether it was due to the attention or the striking similarity between her and the new girl was hard to say.

Mrs Crawford cleared her throat. "Now class, behave."

When everyone settled down, she said, "Now, won't you introduce yourself, dear?"

"Ah. Alright. Um. My name is Angela le Carré. Um, but everyone calls me Ange. Because Angela is too long, right?"

Mrs Crawford smiled. "Ange? Well, did you know that is French for Angel?"

Ange nodded, turning to her with wide eyes. "Yeah! I mean, that's kinda why daddy called me that, right? Because its short for Angela and kinda means the same thing!"

Many of the students laughed, and there were a few who told each other how cute Ange was.

Ange turned back to the classroom with wide eyes, and a red faced look of shock.

"Now students! Behave!"

The commotion quieted, and Mrs Crawford sighed.

"Well, let's see here, where can we have you sit? Lily?"

A girl with dark brown hair stood up. "Yes ma'am?"

"There's an empty desk in front of you."

"Yes ma'am."

"Ange, why don't you take that seat?"

"Oh, Um. Okay."

She walked over to the desk, sparing a quick look at the girl two rows over who had the same eyes and hair.

When her gaze met Ange's, they both blushed and hurriedly looked away.

Ange hadn't any chance to really meet anyone. The teacher started right in on the lesson, and hadn't given them a break until it was time for music. It really wasn't a break then either, queueing up in an orderly manner and walking quietly through the halls of the school to the music room.

The music teacher didn't acknowledge her, and the only concession that she was a new student was a little paper tag with her name on it. She assumed it was her assigned seat for music, and sat there.

"Good morning everyone," said a young woman with short brown hair, and horn-rimmed spectacles.

"Good morning, Miss Danvers," everyone but Ange intoned dutifully.

Ange looked somewhat awkward, but no one said anything to her.

"Now," Miss Danvers announced, "today we have a special treat for you."

Ange noticed that Charlotte's face reddened. Ange watched her curiously.

"Miss Charlotte, if you are prepared?"

The girl swallowed, but nodded. Dutifully, she stood up from her seat and walked over to the upright piano sitting along one wall.

Several of the students gasped in surprise, one or two giggling.

"I'm handing out the words to the song Miss Charlotte will play, so everyone can sing along with her."

Ange absently took the paper, but her focus remained on Charlotte at the piano. As the other girl started to play, Ange's eyes went wide. She didn't really hear the singing around her. Her focus was entirely on the sight of a girl her age, playing the most beautiful music she had ever heard.

She felt more than saw the music teacher standing over her. She glanced up at her guiltily.

"Sing," the teacher mouthed wordlessly.

Ange swallowed, nodded, and looked down at the printed song.

The teacher had moved on, so Ange turned her attention back to Charlotte. She moved her mouth in what she hoped was an approximation of the lyrics to avoid further scolding.

The song ended, and the other students started to clap. Ange's eyes widened, and she joined the applause after a moment of hesitation. She loved the music, but clapping in class didn't seem right, somehow.

Charlotte, very red-faced now, stood and gave a quick curtsey, before giving the music teacher a pleading look.

"You may take your seat," she said.

Charlotte hurried back, and buried her face in her hands, which made many of the other students giggle.

"She's good," Ange muttered.

"What's that?" the girl beside her asked. It was Lily.

"Um. Charlotte. She's good."

"Well of course she is. She is rich."

"Um? What does that .…"

"Her father can buy her piano lessons."

"Oh! I mean she still is ...."

Ange was interrupted by the teacher clearing her throat.

"There is no talking during my class, miss ... sorry, I don't know your name."

"Ange, ma'am."

"Ange?" The teacher frowned and looked at her roster. "Ah, Angela le Carré. Well then, Miss Angela, I will not punish you as you are new. There is no talking during my class."

"But Lily .…"

"No. Talking. I shall hold you to account from this point on, and I'm liable to send you to the headmaster if you backtalk me again. Is that clear?"  
Ange nodded, and the teacher's frown deepened.

"You _are_ to respond to my questions with words. Now, is that clear?"

"Yes Miss Danvers," she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Several of the other students giggled, and Ange blushed. She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that Charlotte was watching her carefully, and not laughing at her misfortune.

It was raining, so there was no outdoor recess. Instead, the students were allowed to quietly talk, or read, or study. Mrs Crawford was at her desk, reading a book and minding that her students didn't act out.

Ange sat on her own, a textbook open on the desk in front of her. She didn't know anyone, and didn't feel comfortable introducing herself. She had tried to smile at Lily at the beginning of recess. The girl had looked at her as though she were a noxious insect, and moved across the room to talk with two other girls.

"Hello."

Ange blinked and glanced uncertainly up. Charlotte stood beside her desk, with a broad, friendly smile.

"Um. Hello."

"May I sit?" Charlotte asked, gesturing at the empty seat in front of her. The desk's owner was on another side of the room, talking with his chums.

"Um. I guess."

"Thank you," Charlotte replied. She carefully turned the chair so it faced Ange's desk, and sat down.

"I wanted to come over to meet you," Charlotte said.

"Oh. We already met though. Kinda?"

Charlotte shook her head. "No, we learnt each others' names. That is not the same as meeting."

"I guess. I ... I'm Angela le Carré. But everyone calls me Ange."

"I am Charlotte Normandy. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh. Um. Nice to meet you. Charlotte?"

Charlotte nodded, her smile widening. "And it is nice to meet you, Ange."

Ange's cheeks heated, and she had to look down at her book.

"You know," Charlotte said casually, "I think that I'd like to be your friend."

Ange looked up at her with wide eyes.

"Um. I ... that is. I'm ... sort of dull though. I don't think you'd like me at all."

Charlotte pouted, shaking her head. "That simply isn't true. I believe we would be very good friends. You see, we are complete opposites."

Ange blinked, and tilted her head. Before she could ask anything else, the bell began to ring.

"Alright students, recess is ended," Mrs Crawford announced.

Charlotte leaned in close as she stood, and patted Ange's arm. "I will talk to you at lunch, perhaps? Friend."

Ange couldn't help a silly grin from crossing her face. "Ah. Um. Okay. Okay yes."


	2. Chapter 2

**March 1965**

The live room was set up much like the band's live performances. Dorothy was at her drum set, on a slightly elevated platform. She was keeping the beat with her usual enthusiasm and a wide, brilliant smile.

Just in front and off-center (to not block the _Turtledoves_ logo on the drums), Charlotte was in front of one microphone. She was playing lead guitar on her Casino.

 _"_ _Yeah. I'll tell you something,_ _"_ she sang.

Beside her, Ange was playing rhythm guitar on her Rickenbacker 325. She leaned in close to Charlotte, their cheeks practically brushing together.

 _"_ _I wanna hold your hand!_ _"_ they sang together into the mike.

Beatrice felt her cheeks heat up as a twinge of jealousy passed through her. She pushed it down. She had her own job to do.

The morning's session didn't have any keyboard parts, so she was acting as assistant to the studio's sound engineer. Her beloved Continental was set up in the live room though, ready for her to use in the afternoon's session.

Just in front of the keyboard, Chise stood at her own microphone, playing bass on her custom left-hand Thunderbird, and adding her voice to the chorus.

 _"_ _Oh please say to me,_ _"_ Charlotte sang " _that you_ _wi_ _ll be my man._ _"_

She and Ange rolled their eyes hard at the words, but continued singing.

 _"_ _You'll let me hold your hand,_ _"_ they sang together into the mike.

The song finished. Ange, Charlotte, and Chise all bowed.

The studio engineer keyed his mike.

"Okay, that's a wrap girls. Nice job. Go and take a load off."

In between recording sessions they relaxed in the "green room," as the studio's lounge was informally known.

Ange and Charlotte sat together on a sofa, sipping cups of tea.

Beatrice and Dorothy sat at a small round table in one corner. Dorothy had a glass of dark soda, mixed with more than a splash of whisky. Beatrice sipped tea.

Chise laid back in a reclining chair, without a drink.

The door to the room opened. A portly man wearing a nice and proper dark grey suit, red tie, and thin, silver-rimmed spectacles entered. 

Dolly Shop had a wide grin on his face. "Great morning session, ladies. I heard the tapes, and I think you've got it."

There were general, mumbled thanks.

"Now, I have a question for you."

"Oh?" Charlotte sounded tired but curious.

Dolly's grin widened. "Yes. What do Elvis Presley, The Beatles, and The Turtledoves all have in common?"

Beatrice blinked. "Um. Did ... did you?"

Dolly chuckled, as both Charlotte and Dorothy blinked and turned wide, hopeful expressions in his direction.

"Did you get us on Ed Sullivan?" Beatrice asked quietly.

Dolly's face lit up. "I got you on Ed Sullivan!"

"Seriously?!" Charlotte said with sudden energy.

Dorothy clapped her hands together. "Hot damn!"

"When?" Chise asked evenly.

"The Sunday before Cleveland. You'll get to sing two songs to open the show, then two more to close it out."

"May I enquire how you managed to get us on _The Ed Sullivan Show_? We haven't a hit to speak of in the States yet, which is the reason for our tour."

"Always with your mind on business, Ange? I like that. Well, Mr Sullivan and I have some mutual friends. Some of those mutual friends happened to be discussing new and promising acts on the British scene. Mr Sullivan, as you can well imagine, is quite eager to scoop the next big thing. In any case, your name came up."

"So," Chise asked slowly, "did _you_ get us on the show, or did _he_?"

"Both," Dolly shrugged. "My friends tipped me off that Mr Sullivan might be interested in having you on, and my message to his people crossed his to mine somewhere over the Atlantic."

"I see," she said, tapping her chin.

"This is huge!" Charlotte exclaimed. "This is our ticket, you know?"

"It sure is," Dorothy agreed, just as enthusiastically.

"So I am going to take a wild guess and say you approve?" Dolly asked with a chuckle.

"Of course!" Beatrice said without hesitation.

"Great. Well, I have to go call his people back to confirm, and have other things to attend to. You know how it is?"

"Thank you, Dolly," Ange said, still without apparent emotion.

When he left, Beatrice's expression darkened. "We'll have to practice harder."

"Not really," Dorothy said offhand. "It's not like we've never done a live TV performance."

"Two songs on the BBC is not the same as being the featured act on _T_ _he Ed Sullivan_ _S_ _how_!"

"That is true," Charlotte said, in a quieter voice. "We will not have the competition, nor the inevitable comparisons. We will share the stage, so to say, with comedians, ventriloquists, perhaps a jazz band. We will be the focus in terms of rock music."

"We'll be fine," Dorothy repeated. "Seriously, how can you be more worried about that than Cleveland?"

"Because," Chise said, "Cleveland in America is little different from London in England or Hamburg in Germany. A live show is a live show."

"And," Dorothy sighed, "this show is a live show, with TV cameras rolling. I don't see the big deal."

"Everyone in the States watches Ed Sullivan," Ange stated. "If we do well there, then our ticket sales will increase in Cleveland, Chicago and Los Angeles. Perhaps some, or all, shall be sold out."

"That would be very good," Charlotte said.

"In contrast, if we fail, or annoy Mr. Sullivan in some particular ...."

"I take your point," Dorothy conceded, "but I still don't see that we have anything to worry about. Focus on the music, girls! It's what we love, and that'll shine through. Even if something does snag."

"I just think we need to take it seriously," Beatrice said.

"And we shall," Charlotte said, her voice carrying a note of finality. "We shall also have fun, and we shall also play the best music we can."

"We will be unstoppable," Chise said, raising a clenched fist.

"I can drink to that," Dorothy grinned.

"You'll drink to anything," Beatrice groused.

Dorothy laughed. "True!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "I Want to Hold Your Hand," by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, first released as a single in November, 1963.


	3. Chapter 3

**December 1962**

As usual for a weekend day, Ange went to Charlotte's house to practice. She was uncharacteristically exited that day, and Charlotte learned why when Ange opened her guitar case.

"Oh," Charlotte's eyes widened. "A Les Paul Junior?"

"Yes!" Ange said with a wide, silly grin. "I saved up my money, and father agreed to cover the rest of the expense as my Christmas present."

She carefully pulled the guitar out of the case and slipped it over her shoulders.

"Very nice," Charlotte said with a nod of approval.

Ange nodded. "So I have a professional, electric guitar now!"

"And have you been practicing with your professional, electric guitar?"

Ange's cheeks reddened. She chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of her head.

"Ange, that won't do."

"But my father won't buy me an amp."

"That is not an excuse. You can still practice. That said, you ought to inform your father that an electric guitar alone is less than ideal."

"Well ... yes. But he says it's too loud for our neighborhood."

"I see. So he expects you to leech off of my good nature in order to practice?" Charlotte said it with a grin, and her tone took away the sting of the words.

"Yes?" Ange said quietly.

Charlotte laughed, and grabbed Ange's hand, nearly causing her to topple as she pulled her through the music room to her amp.

"Impress me," she said with a wide grin.

Ange hurried to plug her guitar in, and played an interpretative medley of guitar solos from Jazz, Blues, and Rock. To Charlotte's amusement.

"Splendid," Charlotte applauded, with a laugh. "However, we've had our fun, and it's time to be serious."

"Yes ma'am," Ange agreed with a grin.

Charlotte plugged her own Les Paul, an SG, into her other amp. Technically the amp was her father's, but as he hadn't played in years he loaned it to the girls without hesitation.

Together, they practiced chords and a few songs.

Charlotte switched to the piano, and they played and sang several more songs.

Ange then unplugged her guitar and borrowed Charlotte's Fender Precision Bass (again, technically her father's) and they practiced even more.

Again they switched roles, Ange taking over at the piano while Charlotte played her guitar.

They practiced for just over an hour, before agreeing to take a break.

Charlotte had run off to procure snacks, and Ange sat on the floor, staring with a thin smile at the instruments.

Aside from the piano and their guitars, the room also had a small collection of instruments Charlotte's father had used when he was in a jazz band: trumpet, double bass, and a vintage ES-150. These had all been declared off-limits.

When Charlotte returned she was carrying a silver platter with two glasses of ice, a bottle of dark fizzy soda, and a plate of snacks. She sat down on the floor by Ange, and moved everything off of the platter. Revealing a flyer, which Ange picked up curiously.

"We ought to," Charlotte said with a grin.

"Ought to what?"

Charlotte gestured at the flyer. It read "Holiday Music Festival."

"Oh." Ange sounded skeptical, and glanced at the cover.

"It's not really a _holiday music_ festival though," Charlotte said in a slightly defensive tone. "It's called that because it's a music festival during the holiday."

"I see," Ange said. She opened the flyer. "Amateur musicians ... Jazz, Blues, and Rock and Roll all welcome."

"See? It would be a great opportunity for us."

"Hm. I don't know. It's just us two after all."

"Ahem. And I quote: 'Individuals, duets, trios, and larger bands all equally welcome.' "

"Well ... yes. I mean, we've never really ... _performed_ though."

"School?"

"Doesn't really count. Nor does putting on a show for our parents."

"Therefore, we ought to do this. Ange, if we're to be serious about our music, we will have to perform in front of an audience. Sooner rather than later, I should think."

"I guess."

"Think how enthusiastic you were playing today?"

"For you," Ange muttered, her cheeks reddening.

Charlotte giggled, leaned forward, and kissed Ange's cheek. "Yes. For me. And kindly agree to this. For me?"

Ange's blush spread. "Ah. Um. Okay."

"Good! I had a feeling you'd come around."

"But what shall we play?"

Having decided to perform, and having had their parents agree, they next had to decide just what they would do.

Ange frowned. "We have about ten minutes, give or take. That is enough for three, maybe four songs."

"That does not consider that we will be swapping roles, however."

"Um. Should we choose two songs then? I mean, one where you are playing piano, then one where I am?"

"Yes, that would be good. To show that we are both talented with many instruments. As well as singing, of course."

Ange sighed. "But that still doesn't say what."

They both glanced around the music room.

Unlike the conservatory, which held instruments, this room held several record players, tape decks, and shelves and shelves of records.

"Perhaps we ought to try listening to some samples?" Charlotte suggested.

She rose and walked to her father's collection, consisting mostly of Jazz and Blues from the Swing and Post-war era.

"Here, perhaps this? Piano is strongly featured."

Ange frowned at the LP she held. "I guess. I mean, I like Duke Ellington, but I'm not sure it's quite right for us."

Charlotte glanced at the cover. "I suppose not. What do you have in mind?"

Ange also stood and walked to the shelf of their record collection. It was in Charlotte's house technically, but they had assembled it over the years with their money, or were gifted the records by their parents. Thus, it was _theirs_ , and not Charlotte's.

"How about this?"

Charlotte looked at Ange's 45.

" 'Love Me Do' ?"

"Or 'P.S. I Love You.'"

"There's no piano part."

"Piano can play any part though?" Ange sounded uncertain.

"Hm. Well, let's put the record on, then."

They listened to the A-side.

"Well," Charlotte said after a moment of thought. "I can play the harmonica parts easily enough on piano. And you can play the rhythm on guitar."

"I know! I think it'll be perfect, since the song's on everyone's mind."

"Let's hear the B-side."

As the song played, Charlotte shook her head.

"You don't like it?"

"I do, just ... it isn't quite suitable I think."

Ange sighed. "So we have one song. We can't just play it twice."

"No, I suppose not. Well, let's see what else we have in our collection then."

They listened to various records, rejecting Chuck Berry, Muddy Waters, Cliff Richard, and countless others.

Ange, looking forlorn, finally placed another record on the player.

Charlotte regarded the art on the cover with a thin frown. " 'Blue Hawaii.' Are you certain?"

Ange shrugged, carefully placing the needle. "We've listened to nearly everything else we own."

"I suppose that's true."

As the song played, Charlotte's smile widened.

"Oh ...."

"Oh?"

Charlotte nodded. "Yes."

"Really?"

"Why not? It fits with the other song."

"Does it fit our style though?"

"Why not?"

"So are those our songs. then? 'Love Me Do,' with you on piano, then 'I Can't Help Falling in Love,' with me on piano?"

Charlotte smiled, and nodded. "Yes. Both are very popular songs, which should help. They are sweet and romantic. Amenable to our voices and playing styles, I believe. Yes, I think they will do splendidly."

"Now," Ange said with a heavy sigh, "we just have to practice."

It was a moment they had dreamed of for years. They were together on stage, hands clasped together, absorbing the wild applause of their fans.

Well.

It was more of a polite applause.

And most of the audience weren't quite fans. A handful could really be called fans, and most of them were their families.

And it was barely a stage. More of a storeroom in the church, converted to a makeshift stage for the occasion.

But none of that mattered to Ange and Charlotte. They drank it in, bowing deeply, grinning like maniacs and giggling.

They had to be shepherded off the stage by the Emcee, to the obvious amusement of much of the audience.

"That was .…" Ange started, words failing her.

They were at what passed for the back stage, another part of the storeroom partitioned off into a dressing room and waiting area.

"Oh, it was fun," Charlotte bubbled.

Ange nodded enthusiastically. "It was!"

They weren't quite certain what to do next, so when they were approached by a pair of older girls, they turned to them eagerly. Assuming they were with the show committee or something of the sort.

"Hey gals," one said with a grin. She was a brunette with lavender eyes and a pronounced figure.

"Ah. Hello, um. Are we ... um?" Ange spluttered. Uncertainty and excitement not letting her be very coherent.

"That was rather nice," the other girl said with a thin smile. She had dark hair pulled up into a loose bun, and wore silver-rimmed pince-nez spectacles.

"Thank you," Charlotte responded.

"Yeah, not bad out there," the brunette said.

Ange and Charlotte nodded. Smiling. Not quite sure what else to say.

The dark haired girl cleared her throat.

"Well, We were sufficiently impressed by your performance, that we wondered if you had any obligations."

"Pardon?" Ange asked.

"She means," the brunette said, "That my name is Dorothy, hers is Eleanor, and we were wondering if you two were interested in playing this weekend."

Eleanor cleared her throat, again. "Yes. Something of the sort."

"Playing?" Charlotte's voice carried a note of excitement.

"We are members of the Elidoro band. Well, to be more precise, we _are_ the Elidodo Band. We find ourselves lacking guitarists," Eleanor explained.

"Yeah, a drummer and a bassist don't quite make a band."

"Right. So, while we don't especially desire to come to any hasty conclusions, we thought that, perhaps, you might be interested."

"Yes!" Charlotte exclaimed. Her face reddened, and she glanced at Ange. "I mean, if you are interested."

"I am," Ange said in a much calmer voice.

"Alright! Okay, here's the place. Be there Friday at one. Bring instruments, we'll provide amps."

"One in the afternoon?" Charlotte asked.

Dorothy laughed. "Yeah, afternoon."

Ange and Charlotte looked at the business card they had been handed.

"Oh," Charlotte said. "Coconut Club?"

"Yes?" Eleanor nodded.

"I don't know if we'll be allowed."

"Whyever not?" Eleanor asked.

They glanced at each other.

"We _are_ only fifteen." Ange said evenly.

"We'll come if we can," Charlotte added.

"Please do! Listen, have your folks call that number if they're wary." Dorothy said

"They did permit you to play today, yes?" Eleanor asked.

"Yes," Charlotte nodded. "In a music festival held at a church. That is rather different than playing at a nightclub."

"Hm." Eleanor tapped her chin. "I do see your point. Still, we would very much appreciate it if you, at least one of you, could come by."

"We will, if we at all can," Charlotte said.

On Friday, a few minutes before one, Ange and Charlotte stood on a snowy sidewalk, at one side of a dingy looking brick building. A short flight of stairs led down to a slightly battered door below a sign that read "Coconut Club."

Ange's mother had been against it, but relented when she learnt that Charlotte would be there as well. Her father hadn't cared.

Charlotte's parents only insisted that their daughter demand money.

"Well," Ange said. Her breath came out in smoky wisps. "Should we knock?"

Charlotte frowned and looked at the door. "There seems to be a service buzzer."

Ange reached out, pressing it with a gloved finger.

For a moment they weren't sure if it had sounded, but then at last the door opened.

Warmth and the unmistakable sound of an electric bass guitar, spilled out. An old, portly man with thinning hair glanced out.

"Hello," Charlotte said with a smile. "We¨re here to .…"

"Get on in, then," the man grumbled.

"Yes. Well, thank you."

The air inside was stale with the lingering air of smoke and alcohol. It was dimly lit, other than the stage on which a drum kit had been set up. Dorothy sat behind it, inspecting one of the cymbals closely. To one side, and slightly in front, Eleanor stood with a Fender Jazz Bass, playing chords and tuning her instrument.

"Guitarist's come," the man grumbled, barely above the volume of Eleanor's instrument.

Dorothy apparently heard though. She looked up with a grin.

"Hey gals! Glad to see you!"

Eleanor also stopped playing. "Wonderful. I hope you are ready to perform."

Ange and Charlotte walked toward the stage, casting uncertain glances at each other.

"Um. Yes?" Charlotte said.

"Great," Dorothy said. She walked around the drums, and down to where they were. "Both of you brought electric guitars, right? Les Paul models, if I remember."

"Yes," Ange replied with a nod.

"Good. Joe, we need another amp."

The old man, Joe apparently, grumbled and ambled to the back room of the club.

"Is he your manager?" Charlotte asked.

Dorothy laughed, and Eleanor shook her head.

"No, he merely owns the club. He does pay our wage, however."

"I see."

It took a few more minutes to get set up. Soon, Ange and Charlotte were on stage, tuning their guitars alongside Eleanor.

"Joe, you got another mike?"

"Nope," he said.

"Oh. Well, you two don't mind sharing?"

Ange and Charlotte glanced at each other, cheeks dusting pink.

"I think we can manage," Ange said

"Okay, great. You two ready?"

"Yes," Charlotte replied.

Joe stopped whatever tasks he was doing behind the bar, and he and a pair of (rather scantily dressed) waitresses sat down in front of the stage.

"Lesse what you birds can do," he grumbled.

Ange and Charlotte shifted awkwardly on their feet, but tried to remain confident,

"You gals know 'Rollin' Stone?' " Dorothy asked.

Ange and Charlotte shared a surprised look.

"You ... you mean Muddy Waters' rendition of 'Catfish Blues?' " Charlotte asked.

Dorothy grinned. "Yeah."

"We are familiar with it," Ange said, "though it is not something we play regularly. It is not precisely suited to our voices."

"Don't worry about the vocals," Dorothy said. "Play melody and rhythm. We'll work out the details as we go."

"This seems to be something we ought to be doing considerably sooner than a few hours before we start," Eleanor groused.

"It doesn't have to be perfect, just so long as it rocks," Dorothy said with a grin.

"Alright," Charlotte said. She and Ange nodded to one another.

Dorothy tapped her drumsticks together. "Okay. Three, two, one ...."

  
They practiced for about an hour, took a break for another hour, and then practiced for an additional hour. The entire time, they built up a playlist from songs Ange and Charlotte knew, and that worked well with the skill and style of the four.

"Opening in a few," Joe finally said to them after their second rehearsal. "You gals need a mite of practice, but you're fair enough."

"Oh. Um. Thank you?" Charlotte said uncertainly.

"I'll pay each of you five quid for the evening."

"How long will we play?" Ange asked evenly.

"First show's 7 to 8. Then 9 to 10. Get to head off midnight."

"I see. So two hours of performing?"

"Yeah, though don't go nowheres. Might get a chance to play a mite between shows."

"I see," Charlotte said slowly.

"It isn't so bad," Dorothy said. "Couple hours of work for a few pounds?"

"One to midnight is a bit more than a couple hours," Ange said evenly.

"Ain't solid through. And on breaks I discount you drinks."

"We're only ...." Ange started to say.

"We're fine with that," Charlotte said, cutting Ange off.

Joe nodded and headed off.

"Ange," she whispered, "it might be best not to call too much attention to our age."

"I ... see. You are right, I suppose."  
  


The evening turned out better than either one expected. The seven to eight show was played to a nearly empty house. Between shows, Ange and Charlotte rested in a back room, drinking tea and eating crisps. At one point, Dorothy stumbled into the room in the midst of a heavy kiss with a young man. She hurriedly broke the kiss when she realized the room wasn't empty.

"Ah, um. Sorry. Forgot you were back here."

"It is alright," Charlotte answered, face red.

"Right. This is Tom .…"

"Pete."

"Right. He's a bassist .…"

"Drummer," Pete said with annoyance.

"Yes. Yes, that. Um. Well. See you in a bit, gals."

"Have fun," Ange replied evenly, somehow not looking especially flustered.

The 9 o'clock show was busier. The crowd was lively. Distracting, even.

Until this point, Ange and Charlotte had performed in front of their parents, schoolmates, and a church full of popular music fans.

Tonight, they saw rough looking men, and women barely dressed at all. They saw pills being popped and roughly rolled cigarettes being smoked.

Still, they received applause, even coming back out after ten to perform an additional song as an encore.

After the show was over, Ange and Charlotte both were exhausted. They retired to the back room, again having tea and crisps.

About half past eleven, Eleanor joined them .

"It was a good show tonight," she said.

"Was it?" Charlotte asked.

Eleanor nodded. "You played quite well. For youthful amateurs that is."

"Thank you," Ange responded dryly.

"Oh, don't mistake me. I speak as someone with a few years more experience. In fact, if I may be so bold, I believe that you would do well as permanent members of the band."

"Oh," Charlotte said. "Is ... that an offer?"

Eleanor smiled. "It is. Dorothy and Joe are currently drawing up appropriate paperwork."

"I am not certain we can accept."

"Of course you can," Eleanor said. "Mind you, legally your parents or guardians must co-sign the contract. The paperwork to take home will lay out all the precise details."

"We are interested, I think," Ange said.

"Yes," Charlotte agreed, though she sounded slightly flustered. "I don't know if our parents will really approve though. What are the hours?"

"Friday and Saturday, one to midnight," Joe said, from where he was standing in the door. "Paperwork's drawn, just needs signatures.

"So," Charlotte said slowly, "how long do we have to decide?"

"If I don't got papers signed in hand by Friday next I will assume you ain't interested, However, if you come back by tomorrow you can consider yourself hired."

"We will. I mean, if we can."

**January, 1963**

"Is this real?"

It was early morning on a Sunday.

  
"Real?"

The sunrise was still hours away.

"It feels like a dream. Too much like one to be happening."

Ange and Charlotte were in warm pajamas.

"I suppose it is a dream. And yet, it is happening."

A sigh. "Ought we to be doing this?"

A giggle. "We've signed a contract. Our parents have agreed, whole-heartedly. We _are_ doing it."

"But ... I just wonder. It's a grueling schedule."

Encased in blankets.

"No, not really. It will be grueling if we continue, but what we have now is easy."

"There's no guarantee we will continue though. We're likely to be forgotten. Or worse, mocked."

"And if we never try, then we shall never succeed. And the guilt for that will haunt us forever."

Arms wrapped around one another.

"I suppose."

"I know. Besides, we're not alone. Dorothy and Eleanor have been doing this for months. We'll be fine."

Another sigh. "I suppose so. Just ... as long as we're together."

"Yes. As long as we're together. We can accomplish anything. Or, at very worst, we can comfort one another through our failures."

A soft laugh. "I suppose I won't mind failing so much if you're there to comfort me."

Their noses brushed together. They were warm and safe.

"Nor I you."


End file.
